A small panel in the wall clicked open. “Richard didn’t just keep evidence at the office,” I said quietly. He kept his most damaging files right here in his wife’s favorite room behind her favorite chair, watching her everyday, waiting for the right moment. When he died, dad took over. When they killed Dad, I stepped in. And now, suddenly, lights flooded the house from outside.
Sirens wailed. Claire’s voice came through a megaphone. FBI, the house is surrounded. Malcolm bolted for the door, but was met by agents rushing in. Matthew lunged for the painting, but I was faster. I grabbed it and swung it hard, connecting with his jaw. He sprawled backwards, stunned more by the betrayal than the blow.
Brooke remained seated, her face a mask of cold fury. “You won’t win,” she said softly. “You have no idea how far our influence reaches.” I pulled out a final photo from my pocket and placed it in her lap. Her hands trembled as she recognized it. “Richard and my father.” But there was a third person in the photo, a young woman with wild curly hair, “Kate.
” Brooke whispered. “Your own daughter?” I nodded. She didn’t just start investigating 5 years ago. She’s been part of this since the beginning. Everything she did, getting cut off from the family, starting her own business, and letting you destroy it. It was all to make you feel safe, to keep you from looking too closely at her real work.
As the FBI agents moved in with handcuffs, I picked up Leah’s painting. By the way, there aren’t any documents hidden in here. Leah’s art was always just art. Beautiful, honest, real, everything your family couldn’t understand or control. But what happened next would prove that even I hadn’t uncovered all the Harrison family secrets.
